


Without Words

by Morgan (morgan32)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-26
Updated: 2008-10-26
Packaged: 2017-10-02 02:26:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgan32/pseuds/Morgan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Willow's choice of fancy dress costume is a secret message to someone. Set during season 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without Words

Her heart was pounding against her ribcage, battering lungs starved for oxygen as they ran. She would have preferred to stand and fight. Had she been alone, she would have, and the vampires behind them would be dust by now. But Buffy had to protect her friend, and Willow was in no position to help her fight right now. In the close quarters of the alley, Buffy wouldn't have been able to fight _and watch_ out for Willow. So instead, they ran, Buffy seeking a better place for the fight.  
Finally, they reached the main street. The harsh light of the street lamps was blinding after the dark of the alley. Buffy stopped running, feeling Willow come to a halt beside her. She had time for a glance at her friend: Willow was bent almost double, her breath coming in harsh gasps. There was no help for it. Willow couldn't run any further. She would have to slay them here.

Now.

Buffy pulled a stake out of her sleeve and turned to face them. The first two were dust in seconds. The third took longer. She ducked under a blow meant to shatter her skull, striking upward with the stake. She felt it pierce the vampire's heart. In the same instant, she heard Willow scream. The scream was followed by a crash. Buffy whirled, fear flooding her veins with adrenaline, in time to see Willow fly backwards through the plate glass window of the supermarket. Glass shattered. Anger and fear lent Buffy greater strength and she faced the vampire who had done it.

Spike.

"If you've killed her, I swear I'll..."

"You'll what?" Spike asked mockingly. "Kill me? I thought that was your plan anyway, Sweetheart?"

With an incoherent cry she lunged for him, striking out with fists and feet so fast the vampire barely saw her coming. But he _did see_ her coming, and while she did some damage, her stake never got near him. Spike, as she had been forced to admit before, was too good, and he was a survivor. Suddenly he was gone. Again.

Her heart in her mouth, Buffy rushed to the shattered window. She stepped carefully but quickly over the jagged shards of glass the covered the floor between the window and where Willow lay. As she approached, Willow began to stir and let out a soft moan. Buffy relaxed - just a little. Willow was alive.

It would have been too cruel to lose her tonight.

*

Tonight had been fancy dress night at the Bronze: sort of a midsummer Halloween, as Xander had put it. You got a free drink if you turned up in costume, so most of the kids did. Buffy, anticipating trouble - there was always trouble in Sunnydale - had created a Robin Hood costume for herself. Complete with a very real crossbow and a quiver that held stakes as well as arrows.

Willow's costume had stunned them all. She had turned up wearing a to-die-for dress: a low cut white bodice with a full length black skirt, gathered into a bustle at the back. On most girls, it would have looked dreadful. On Willow's slim body the effect was stunning. She had done something with her hair, too, and her makeup was subtle around the eyes and cheeks, with all the emphasis on her lips. The full effect was...well, most un-Willow-like.

Giles had commented with apparent embarrassment on the authenticity of the costume. Xander's jaw hit the ground the moment he saw her.

Buffy hadn't dared to say anything, at first. Because the outfit was finished with a pair of elbow-length black lace gloves...and Buffy was fairly sure only she knew the significance of those.

Two days before, in the library, they had been relieving the tension of recent battles to save the world by giggling over one of Giles' more interesting history books: the chapter was all about communication without words. Reading about eighteenth century women who used fans (which apparently were _the_ essential fashion accessory - they obviously didn't have Swatch back then) to signal their interest or lack of it when a man was around, Buffy couldn't help but laugh. She understood being nervous about admitting how you felt about someone, but that was ridiculous! Then Willow had drawn her attention to another example...

"In Verona," Willow read aloud, "black lace gloves became a symbol of sexual congress. Derived from the scarlet glove associated only with courtesans, the symbol gained a strange kind of respectability when worn by married women to show their willingness to look upon another."

"That's just too weird," Buffy had commented. "I mean, if you want someone, why not just tell them?" Yet even as she spoke she was aware of her own hypocrisy. Of her own, unspoken feelings. It was getting harder to be around Willow, and not show that her feelings went some way beyond the acceptable boundaries of friendship. She would never say anything. She couldn't. The implications were too great, and Buffy's presence in Willow's life had already changed the girl's life completely. Buffy was afraid of robbing her closest friend of any possibility of a "normal" life. Not to mention, Buffy did not believe she could go on without Willow's friendship and support. She wasn't about to jeopardize that by admitting...

"...it's wrong," Willow finished.

"Huh?"

"I said, sometimes people are scared, you know? To say what they want to say directly. Especially when other people will think it's wrong."

Willow's words were such a perfect mirror of her own thoughts that Buffy felt heat rising into her cheeks and could only pray Willow wouldn't see it. "I guess," she agreed.

Buffy, normally very observant, hadn't noticed at the time that Willow's colour was also a bit high. "I guess," Willow suggested, "signals like that can be useful, sometimes. You can tell someone without telling them. That way, if s...I mean _he's_ not interested, you can just pretend it didn't happen."

"Maybe..." Buffy agreed thoughtfully. She reached for the book, intending to turn the page, and her hand accidentally brushed Willow's fingers. Electricity sparked between them at the touch. Buffy shook her head slightly, making her hair fall forward to hide her expression. She picked up the book, replacing it on the shelf to give herself a moment to recover. If only she could turn those feelings off.

When she turned back to her friend, she had schooled her expression to blank: the same way she hid her fear when there were vamps around. "Willow..."  she asked tentatively, "is there someone? Because you know, if there is, you should try telling him how you feel."

Willow shook her head firmly. "No way. Talking leads to sounding really stupid, and that just leads to awkward silence and scariness. Anyway, there's no _him_." But the expression on Willow's face suggested this wasn't entirely truthful.

...Then at the Bronze, seeing Willow in that _stunning_ gown, Buffy had finally dared to hope that she might not have misread the signals of that brief conversation. She had wondered if Willow's costume might have been intended for someone else - Xander, for instance, though the girl's crush on him had seemed less intense of late - but Willow had stayed close to Buffy all evening.

It had been a good party. Right up until the moment Spike and his henchmen had decided to gatecrash. Ever-dependable Giles had warned them this might happen: something about this night of the year. The usefulness of Buffy's costume proved itself quickly. Willow's gown, on the other hand, was not designed for fight or flight. When somehow Willow had disappeared, Buffy had panicked - just slightly - and gone in search of her. She found Willow just outside, but then they had ended up running for their lives.

Buffy, feeling glass crunch beneath her boots, stepped gingerly to Willow's side. In the glaring light of the street lamps she could see a large stain of red on Willow's white bodice.

Her panic was very real. "Oh god! Willow, are you okay?"

Willow sat up slowly. "I'm a little fuzzy...but, yeah, I'm okay."

"B-but you're..."

Willow looked down at her dress. "Oh! Buffy, it's alright. It's not blood."

Panic subsiding, Buffy took more notice of their surroundings. Willow was sitting up, surrounded by smashed glass. Smashed bottles. Of tomato ketchup. It was a miracle she hadn't been more badly hurt.

Overcome with relief, Buffy dropped to her knees and pulled Willow against her in a massive hug. Willow's arms closed around Buffy's shoulders and they held each other tightly. They remained that way, locked together, for a long time. Buffy was aware of nothing so much as Willow's light perfume, and the warmth of Willow's body against hers.

Finally, they broke apart. Awkwardly, Buffy got to her feet, offering a hand to help Willow up. Willow's hand grasped hers tightly. Buffy stammered, "I...um...Wil..."

We shouldn't stay here," Willow pointed out. "Spike could be back."

"I'll walk you home," Buffy offered.

"Thanks." Then Willow looked down at herself. "Buffy! I can't go home like this!"

"It's okay, Wil," Buffy assured her, thinking fast. "We can stop by the library and you can change."

"Oh. Okay."

The brief awkwardness over, both girls headed into the deserted street.

*

The school was deserted: not too surprising for almost midnight. They crept inside. Both girls knew the way to the library in the dark. Buffy found the switch and the library filled with light. "I keep a change of clothes in the weapons locker," she told Willow. "It should be enough to get you home."

"Thanks." Willow opened the cupboard, finding a wrap-around skirt and a blouse. She and Buffy weren't the same size, but this would work. She placed the skirt and blouse on the table and started fumbling for the zipper of her dress.

"Here. I'll help," Buffy offered, as Willow struggled with the fastenings she could barely reach. She stepped close and slowly opened the zipper of Willow's dress. Willow struggled to breathe. This was so close to her own, secret fantasy of how this night might go...well, except for the vampires and nearly getting killed at the supermarket and getting undressed in the school library with a gown stinking of ketchup. But to have Buffy so close...

She turned, and her ragged breathing stopped altogether as Buffy touched her lace-clad hand.

"These gloves..." Buffy said quietly, and Willow marvelled at the uncertainty in her best friend's voice. "Are you trying to tell me something, Wil?"

Buffy's hand on hers was firm, warm. Willow looked up, into her friend's eyes and saw there everything she wanted to see. And more.

She said, exactly as she had in the fantasy, "No...I'm not trying to tell you anything. I'm trying to _shout_ it."

Buffy's expression went from disappointment at Willow's first words to incredulity and then joy. Her fingers gripped Willow's hand more tightly and her other hand reached tentatively for Willow's hair, threading the ginger tresses through her fingers. "Are you sure?" she asked nervously.

An indescribable thrill went through Willow, from the touch or from the words, she didn't know. Quietly, she said, "Are you?"

"No. I'm not sure of anything any more. But..."

Willow touched Buffy's lips with one finger. "Don't talk. I told you - talk only messes things up."

She was so right, Buffy realized. How long had they both felt this way, and never dared to speak of it? It was time, past time, to forget about words. Her fingers were still twined in Willow's silky hair. She bent closer, gently tilting Willow's face toward hers. Willow leaned willingly into her touch and they kissed for the first time.

It was hesitant at first, neither of them able to believe the unspoken fantasy was finally coming true. Their lips met lightly, so brief a touch, as if both were afraid of being burned. As one, they drew away from each other, then Buffy moved forward again, kissing Willow's lips softly, with more confidence. Willow's mouth opened beneath hers and once again they were holding each other, not in pain or relief this time, but finally, in love.

Willow's dress slipped to the floor between them. It went unnoticed until Buffy slid her hands from Willow's hair to her shoulders. Finding soft, bare skin where she had expected to find silk, Buffy pulled back in surprise. "Willow?"

Willow glanced down and pulled her dress back up quickly. Too quickly. "I...um..." She was clutching the dress to herself.

The sudden attack of shyness called an answering response from Buffy. Dropping her hands, she stepped back. "Maybe...we...maybe you should change."

"_No!_" Willow said forcefully.

Buffy frowned. "No?"

"No! Buffy...I know we're just kids and we're supposed to take things slow and all that, but we've _got_ to finish what we started here. I just know that if we don't..."

"Willow," Buffy pointed out reasonably, "we're in the library. Anyone could walk in. _Giles_ could walk in!"

For a moment, Buffy's protest seemed to stump Willow. Then her expression turned determined again. "Well, we can use Giles' office. We can lock the door. And if anyone comes, we'll just tell them I was changing." Willow picked up Buffy's spare clothes and, still clutching her ruined dress, she marched resolvedly straight into Giles' office."

"But..." Buffy tried to say.

"I told you to stop talking," Willow tossed over her shoulder.

Buffy stared after her, open mouthed. This was a side of Willow she had been aware of, but had never truly seen before. She decided she rather liked it. She followed her friend.

*

The door was locked, and (just for good measure) a heavy filing cabinet had been pulled across it. Buffy turned away from the door, satisfied they couldn't be disturbed or seen. As she turned, Willow was in her arms again, their mouths locked together.

It was right.

The room was familiar, if not exactly comfortable. It was a part of _their_ world, where no bad memories intruded, where, once the door was locked, they could forget the rest of the world existed.

If only that were so.

*

High above the two girls, there was a skylight in the ceiling. Through the glass, a pair of vampire eyes watched them, fascinated.

Vampire eyes watched the first, shy passion blossom in the kisses they shared. Watched with appreciation as two female bodies were laid bare; one a delicate beauty who moved with feigned confidence, the other all wiry strength and unconscious grace. Those eyes watched two girls who, face to face and eye to eye, began the terrifying and wonderful journey into womanhood together.

Vampire eyes saw everything. Saw visual caresses become tactile, saw hands explore bodies with growing confidence, saw lips begin to follow. Saw the silent ecstasy in the face of one girl, then the other. Saw caresses slow to become mutual embrace, and saw eyes close in sleep.

Vampire eyes watched it all, while the owner of those eyes felt a bloodlust more intense than any ever before. He could so easily have killed them both. Yet he held back. He liked what he was seeing.

Finally abandoning the scene below, Spike smiled to himself. Either someone had spiked the punch at that party...or the Slayer just found herself a major weakness.

Spike would make sure it was a _fatal_ weakness.

The vampire was whistling as he walked away.


End file.
